


...and you thought your neighbours were weird?

by doctormissy



Category: Hannibal (TV), James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Background Relationships, Crossover, Established Relationship, Ficlet, Fluff and Crack, Future Fic, Hannibal is a Cannibal, London, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Will is a Cannibal, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 14:51:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8331946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctormissy/pseuds/doctormissy
Summary: 51°35'38.9"N 0°26'42.1"W    –JB
Hannibal chuckled and locked the mobile. Meat supplies for the next week were procured. Or, Hannibal and Will live together in Notting Hill in the house James Bond and Q happen to live in.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Posted on my [Tumblr](http://wiilgrahams.tumblr.com/). Come say hi! 
> 
> On Tuesday I had this idea about a post-TWotL future!fic where Hannibal and Will happen to move to the house in Notting Hill where James Bond lives (of course with his Quartermaster). I wrote it in my head, but didn’t wanna write it… until I told my mum about the idea, and we totally talked about it for like an hour, and, well, I wrote at least a ficlet. Just… crack. Crossover-ish. It takes place in 2030. I guess you know the warnings when it comes to Hannibal.

A sudden beep of an incoming text resounded through the silent, dark bedroom, along with bright white light emitted by the screen that came alive as the message was delivered. It was strong enough for furniture to cast eerie yet calming shadows on the walls, but not enough to startle and awaken the dog snoring on the floor beside her masters.

The sound woke the owner of the mobile immediately. However, the other man remained sound asleep; he only shifted slightly and pulled the quilt over his right arm, which was getting cold, as it was uncovered.

Hannibal turned over and reached for the smartphone laying on the nightstand, narrowing his eyes to get used to the light better. He unlocked it and opened the message box.

The text was simple.

_51°35'38.9"N 0°26'42.1"W –JB_

Hannibal chuckled and locked the mobile. Meat supplies for the next week were procured.

He turned to his sleeping husband. He looked so beautiful in the dim light of the streetlamps – as he did bloody _always_ – but Hannibal couldn’t lose himself in him again. There were things to be arranged.

“Will,” he whispered. When the younger man failed to react, he raised his voice a little. “Will, wake up. We have things to do.”

Will hummed a sleepy – and very much annoyed – disagreement in the pillow. He was hell-bent on finally getting some quality sleep.

When Hannibal reached for him, lay his hand on one of his shoulders, and shook his body to _force him_ to get up – albeit gently – he received a very unfriendly “No. Do you know what time is it, Hannibal?”

“2:28 in the morning.”

“Precisely. Now get back to sleep, cos I’m not going anywhere.” Will rolled over and covered all of himself with the warm and comfortable duvet.

“But Will, our downstairs neighbour sent me a message. There is a body. So I’d advise you to get up and get the van ready before it is found.”

He was standing already, walking toward the walk-in wardrobe, pulling out the polythene suit. Hygiene above everything, right?

No one would find the body. James Bond was long proven excellent at hiding corpses. It could wait until the morning. However, Hannibal seemed to have thought the opposite.

“I wonder who is it this time, a KGB agent maybe?” Will mocked; the smile was clearly audible in the tone of his voice. And so was resignation. Two is better than one, after all.

Soon after that he sighed, said a mental goodbye to the peace, quietness, and warmth of their bedroom he won’t see until another night, put the duvet aside, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

He could never say no to Hannibal. He accepted that twelve years ago and he might as well live with it.

And so he found himself changing his pyjamas into jeans and jumper, getting ready for yet another middle-of-the-night trip to north-west London, where their MI6 neighbour with an _actual_ licence to kill liked to dispose of the Queen and Country’s enemies’ bodies and later the text the coordinates to the Murder Husbands instead of the proper authorities.

It was what they did, in exchange for staying out of each other’s business and this kind of twisted friendship they managed to form over years.

Oh, they definitely owed him and his (vegetarian) boffin partner a dinner.

**Author's Note:**

> I said there is going to be a sequel. [Here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10708734) it is :)


End file.
